


The Water Fountain

by Themusicmarionette



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: First Date, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themusicmarionette/pseuds/Themusicmarionette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate version of Cecil and Carlos's first date.<br/>A Welcome to Night Vale oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Water Fountain

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate version of what could have happened as Cecil and Carlos’s first date. No spoilers, except for that thing that happens in 27 that I already mentioned.

“Carlos, oh, perfect Carlos.”

The name sounded familiar and new, comforting and strange, as Cecil let the words roll off his tongue. 

He had admired Carlos since the scientist had first come to Night Vale to research the desert town, as Night Vale was, apparently, “probably the most scientifically interesting town in the world”. Cecil thought nothing of this; Night Vale was as normal as could be, at least he thought, but anything Carlos said seemed to make sense.

Oh, Carlos. He had the most beautiful chocolate colored hair that curled nearly to his shoulders with the slightest bit of silver emerging at his temples. His deep, brown eyes seemed to hold so many secrets and such curiosity. His skin was the perfect caramel tone to compliment his hair, and when he smiled, his lips parted to reveal two rows of straight, pearly teeth.

Cecil smiled every time he thought of the other man. Even though he didn’t know Carlos very well at all, he knew that he wanted to know him.

Brrrriiiiiing!

The sharp tone brought Cecil’s attention back to the broadcasting booth.

Brrrriiiiiing!

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and swiped to answer, suspecting Old Woman Josie saying something about her supposed angel friends who were obviously not angels.

“Josie,” Cecil began in a more stern version of his usual deep, radio voice, “Angels are most definitely not real, but what is it?”

“Uh, Cecil?” a tenor intoned, “It’s Carlos.”

“Oh! Carlos!” Cecil nearly squeaked in excitement. He carefully lowered his voice before continuing, “What is it, Carlos? What brings you to call me?”

It took great concentration to leave out the word “perfect” before Carlos’s name.

“Well, Cecil, I am not calling for personal reasons,” Carlos said.

“Oh,” Cecil replied, so softly he was sure Carlos had not heard him.

“I would like to visit the House That Does Not Exist,” Carlos went on, “But I do not know where it is. Cecil, could you show me?”

“Of course!” Cecil exclaimed, “Meet me outside of the station as soon as you can!”

Before Carlos could respond, Cecil hung up the phone and shove it into his pocket. He hurried out of the booth and down the hall, speeding as he passed Station Management’s door on the way to the exit.

As he opened the door, a burst of fresh, dry, desert air hit his face with the slightest touch of lime sand prickling his cheeks. He removed his glasses, wiping the grains from them as he smiled. He had a date with Carlos. Well, not really a date, but Carlos needed him for something. Even though giving Carlos directions was a menial task, Cecil refused to let that thought enter his mind, instead humming contentedly to himself as he thought of the best route to the House That Does Not Exist.

Carlos arrived a few minutes later by foot, his perfect hair mussed— though still looking quite perfect— and his lab coat covered in a thin layer of what Cecil assumed to be the lime-flavoured sand that had blow into him as he had opened the door to the station.

“Perfect Carlos,” Cecil asked, not aware that word he’d promised himself not to use when referring to Carlos with Carlos had slipped from his tongue. “Don’t you have a car?”

“I do, but it disappeared in a gust of this nasty, lime-y sand,” Carlos informed him.

“That happened to my first car, but it was a sand cloud that tasted of orange zest,” Cecil explained, “It happens sometimes.”

Carlos furrowed his brow in confusion, though this development should not have shocked him at this point. He made a mental note to study the disappearances of Night Vale cars into citrusy sand clouds.

“Come on, we can take my car,” Cecil said, walking over to the only car in the station’s parking lot, which was a plum-colored sedan.

Cecil opened the passenger door for Carlos, who gave him a questioning glance as he scooted into the seat. 

“Oh, uh...” Cecil stammered, suddenly remembering something.

“What is it?” Carlos inquired.

“Nothing,” Cecil answered, and proceeded to clamber over Carlos.

“What are you—” Carlos demanded, but was silenced when Cecil’s elbow struck him in the chest.

“Oh, sorry!” Cecil cried as he brought his silver-clad legs over the gear shift and settled himself into the seat.

“What was that all about?” Carlos finally asked, massaging his chest.

“The driver’s side door on my car is stuck shut, I assume by the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home,” Cecil explained, “I keep forgetting to buy her favorite type of cheese, so she probably glued my it shut.”

“You could have just asked me to get out,” Carlos told him.

“Yes, but that seems pretty rude, considering I opened the door for you so you could get in,” Cecil said.

Carlos opened his mouth in protest, but realizing that he would never win this ridiculous argument, shut it as Cecil put the car into gear.

.oOo.

“Here we are!” Cecil announced, “Would you like to get out first or second?”

“I’d let you get out first,” Carlos told him, “ But I don’t want to climb over you.”

Such consideration! Cecil gushed internally, He is such a gentleman.

Carlos got out and Cecil followed, both taking a moment to observe the house.

The House That Does Not Exist stood not quite short and not quite tall. It was not wide or thin, and Carlos could not tell if it was home or two stories. The door was nondescript, and Carlos made his way to it.

“Wait!” Cecil called from the driver’s side door.

“What?” Carlos asked, turning around.

“Just...” Cecil was suddenly lost for words with Carlos’s eyes and attention on him. The scientist was waiting for what he had to say. Sure, all the other citizens of Night Vale did that, but Carlos was an outsider. He didn’t know the customs, but still he looked and waited.

“Just be careful,” Cecil finished, “I...” he glanced down and began to study his feet.

“You what?” Carlos prompted.

“I want to ask you...” Cecil said, trailing off into silence.

“What is it?” Carlos asked gently, “Cecil, I’m a scientist. I answer all kinds of questions all the time.”

“To ask you...” Cecil paused again, and then shook his head, “Nevermind,” he breathed. Raising his voice, he continued, “Be careful, Carlos.”

Carlos smiled shyly, “Of course I will. A scientist is always careful. Are you going to come with me or not?”

Cecil opened his mouth. 

Doing science with Carlos? Of course! 

“Of course!” Cecil repeated, this time aloud, “I’d love to come and… science with you!”

Let’s just hope there aren’t any mirrors in this house… Cecil thought, pinching his lips before he went after Carlos.

.oOo.

“That was so much fun!” Cecil exclaimed, “I never knew science could be so neat!”

Oh, that word, Cecil thought, silently cursing himself. At least he hadn’t added the dreaded “o” onto the end of it. That would have been disastrous. And science was neat, anyway, even though he didn’t understand half the words coming from Carlos’s perfect mouth; they were still words coming from Carlos’s perfect mouth. Most people spent time marveling at Cecil’s voice, and now it was his turn to be in awe. How could someone be so perfect in each and every respect?

“...And from those tests I can decisively conclude that the House That Does Not Exist still does not exist,” Carlos finished.

Cecil realized he had been deep in thought during Carlos’s long, sciencey explanation, so he just smiled and nodded.

“So, Carlos,” he began, “Would you like to… come over some time? Maybe for dinner and a movie?”

“That sounds wonderful, Cecil,” Carlos replied, though his frown did not match the excitement Cecil though the words should have come with. “I just… maybe we should… you know, start a little smaller. Build up to that. Do some things as friends or something.”

“Oh, okay,” Cecil managed to say, biting back tears of disappointment that he knew were bound to come.

“No, I didn’t mean—!” Carlos began again, “Just that what you said sounded a little rushed. I barely know you.”

“It’s just a movie and dinner. Maybe an old Western or something. I have tons of those. And since the ban on wheat and wheat by-products, I thought I could cook something nice,” Cecil explained, “And then we could watch a movie. Like a Western!”

Carlos’s expression remained unchanged. 

“What is it, Carlos? Perf— Carlos, just tell me what it is,” Cecil pled, “I… I want to get to know you.”

“Then why don’t you take me out for a drink, first?” Carlos suggested.

“That sounds perfect!” Cecil agreed, nearly shrieking, “I’ll come get you at seven!”

“Isn’t that a bit...” Carlos started, but Cecil had already taken off in the direction Carlos assumed held Cecil’s apartment. “A bit early?” he finished.

“Night Vale,” he muttered, shaking his head.

He turned to get into the car, then realizing that is was Cecil’s car and that Cecil was already out of sight.

“Cecil!” he called in the direction the radio host had run, “You left your car!”

There was no response.

I guess I’m walking, then, Carlos told himself, Here’s to hoping a scientist’s sense of direction is better than their sense of time during experiments.

.oOo.

Carlos had found his way back to the lab, and shortly after Cecil had arrived promptly at seven in the car that he had left outside the House That Does Not Exist, promising Carlos that he had the perfect, not-moving-too-fast idea in mind.

“You’ll just love it,” Cecil told him, “This is the best water fountain in all of Night Vale!”

Carlos hoped that was just a Night Vale euphemism for a bar.

“We’re here!” Cecil announced, “Mission Grove Park!”

He gestured for Carlos to exit the car and then followed, leading the scientist across the park and through groups of people performing bloodstone rituals and past the Eternal Animal Pyre. 

“These trees are very interesting,” Carlos noted to himself, “I’d like to run some tests on the trees.”

Cecil stopped once they had finally reached the other side of the park.

“Here we are!” Cecil said, gesturing in bravado to his left. 

“There’s nothing there,” Carlos told him.

“Look!” Cecil told him, smiling with pride like a child who won an honorable mention at a science fair. “It’s the finest water fountain in all of Night Vale! I’m taking you out for a drink, just like you asked!”

Carlos looked again, and there it was: a water fountain. Made of silver metal with no sign of rust, though the dents and scratches on its side indicated and older age.

“Fascinating,” he said, examining the spout. “It’s not certainly not new, but there’s no rust where the water touches the metal. Extraordinary!”

He continued to stare intently at the spot, moving to get a view from different angles. Occasionally he pulled out a small red notebook and scribbled a few words into it before replacing it in his back pocket and returning his attention to the water fountain.

“Cecil!” Carlos exclaimed, beaming and turning to the radio host, “This is the best first date ever!”


End file.
